Falling

Seventeen (Search)

Clumps of gray fall away from the front edge of the sidewalk, like clumps of shells that'd been crushed under the feet of some giant's foot.

A wobbly collection of women string out like chittering charms of an unstrung necklace, some leaning against the face of an obstinate building. Each one, no doubt, is thinking about their hungry family and the hope that Grace's Kitchen brings into the struggle against the aftermath of a hungry quake.

I don't feel the desperation, I can only see it in their eyes.

I walk across the street and head for the store front's wide opening, taking command of the street. A couple of pretty young ladies are passing out cans and pressing bread into the mouths of bags, where the hope for a satisfied stomach gathers weight.

My mind is struggling with its own quake-shaking emotions.

"Mary. Have you seen Mary?" I ask one of the serving girls.

She looks up, gathers the sense of my question in her eyes and points a brown finger toward the back.

There's a small table in one corner. That's where she must be.

"Mary?" I ask the back of the body, seated, feet propped up on an empty wooden crate.

She turns, chair legs squeal under her weight.

"You! Yous got a lot of nerve come'n round here these days," her voice accuses.

I've been waiting for Sam to return. It started out under Boss Man's priorities and grew into something else...that's taken hold of my heart.

"Sam...He's disappeared. It's been two days now."

Lyla's eyes are all teary. Her face is sag-gin against the corners of her pink lips. Maybe there's more to her worry'n than do'n Boss Man's business. "He got himself all packed and left. I thought he'd be a hightail'n it back to you."

"Left?"

"Yeah. I gave him the choice. Either forget Boss Man...or..."

Now she's put'n the worry into my brain. "...Or leave." I don't got the eye, or no-thin...but I's able to see when there's some-thin behind someone's feel-ins.

"That Boss Man of yours...Well, he's got spies all over this island. I bet he could find Sam's whereabouts."

I try to let lose of my speak'n a little softer, hide'n the mad that's still push'n up my feel-ins.

I stand and plant hands on my hips. I'm still not like'n the idea of friend'n her.

"I guess it's up to you, girl," my eyes are search'n hers for some clues.

"Yeah!" My eyes search into Mary's, pleading for help.

There's worry crawling across Mary's face, forcing her lips into a tight grip.

"You better be tell'n your Boss Man some-thins a foot. An', it ain't no good. I feels Sam is about to be in trouble!" Lyla's eyes are flash'n. Her face goes all tight around her mouth.

Mary's words drop like balls of rain falling into a bucket.

Splash!

The emotion explodes into my brain—FEAR!

Lyla turns away from me and hoofs it toward the front. I watch her bend down and slide into a little white taxi.

I'm jumping out of the taxi almost before it comes to a stop. Shaking, rattling fear is surging through my head like a train out of control. My body is flying past a row of customers swinging their eyes in my direction.

"Boss Man! Where's Boss Man?"

"In his office...I s'pose."

"Okay...Okay...Bar Man!"

I be watch'n her fling wild hands against the shut up door. What's got into that girl?

My legs be stand'n my body, ready to face the hammer'n on the outside of my office door. I takes a firm hold on the door nob.

"Who be there?"

It's me, Lyla!"

I swings the door open. Her arms go fly'n around my neck. Tears be stream'n down her soft brown cheeks.

"What's wrong?" My hands lays a hold of her shoulders, push'n her back a step.

"He's missing...Boss Man!" Her eyes are begging.

"Who?"

"Sam!"

"What you mean'n?" Her eyes be swing'n back an' forth, her lungs gasp-in for air!

"It was late in the afternoon when he woke up...from our night. I spiked his drink with a bit of D to show him a good time."

"Okay....An'" My eyes be probe-in her's.

"He said he had to get back to the Kitchen...He was late."

"An'?"

"He had an argument with Mary...and...packed his backpack...left! But...but...he didn't come back here! Could one of the gangs have taken him?"

Lyla's question starts ta flip in my brain. I let go of her shoulders and look round the opened door.

"Trip," I yells!

"Here, Boss."

"We needs to be find'n out where Sam's gone to...asp!" There's a lot of trouble sneak'n around this island.

"On it, Boss!"

My eyes turns to the sound of crinkle'n leather. Lyla's body is take'n possession of the love seat. She looks up, eyes still beg'n, tears run-in.

"He's got the eye, Boss Man! What if one of the other gangs has taken him?"

"Yeah." I be let'n that think'n take up a seat in my brain.

I grab a short glass off my desk. The neck of a whisky bottle be clank'n against its rim.

I's be watch'n a brown wash splash'n against the glass' thick bottom. I be hope'n he's in one piece when we finds him! Whisky stings my throat.